


This Time, I Don't Want To Move.

by SilverFliesInBlueSugar



Category: Little Nightmares (Video Game)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Dark, F/M, Time Loop, Trauma, Unhappy Ending, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 19:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30043527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverFliesInBlueSugar/pseuds/SilverFliesInBlueSugar
Summary: Normally, he remembers right after her fingers leave his. Now, it strikes him with the force of a migraine as he awakens in the woods.What now.
Relationships: Mono & Six (Little Nightmares), Mono/Six (Little Nightmares)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 81





	This Time, I Don't Want To Move.

**Author's Note:**

> Woop i finally finished LN2, have some nonsensical misery

He hates her. That's what Mono decides when he wakes up for the hundredth time in the woods. His fingers twist in the damp blades of grass beneath him, and he screams into his scratched palms, pushing his head down between his knees. Again, again, again. He hardly remembers, and then he remembers far too much. Sometimes he only remembers right before she lets go. Sometimes he remembers after.

He's here, in the forest, but he's also out there, in the signal tower, locked away in the television. The split of his mind makes his head throb.

Part of him wants to splinter her skull beneath his fingers the moment he touches her. Part of him wants to bunch her shirt in his trembling hands and beg for an answer. Most of him doesn't want to get up anymore - doesn't want to try.

He hardly remembers, but of what he does, he knows he's normally halfway to the house by now. Urgent, running, scared, curious. It's hard to care now. Maybe an hour has passed. He hasn't moved, and he doesn't plan to.

He remembers a few lives back, when she gently pushed the bag up his head, looking inquisitively at his face as if expecting something much more impressive. His face isn't one he considers interesting. His features are pallid and ashen, his eyes are sunken and black, his hair sticks to his forehead and then outward; a mess. He's nothing interesting, but something odd twists her expression, and she stands on tippy toes to press her lips to his.

For the second it happens, it's electricity. Then it's over. When she let him go that time, he spent the first day sobbing. Other times he'd been left in shock, but that time the distraught part of him set in faster. He'd thought she loved him.

The thought makes him sick now. He longs to turn her arms backward, hear the crack. He wants to make her body look like it had when she had been that horrible, twisted version of herself in the signal tower. Then he imagines her beneath him, eyes full of fear and shock, and he jolts backwards. He wants to hurt her, but the mere thought turns his stomach. 

Eventually, he gets up. Every step is rehearsed, every trap expected. He feels no disgust at the piles of festering carrion, the bags of human corpses, the spots of animal shit and blood. He's seen it all before. It's like walking through a dream.

He wishes he didn't remember so early, this time. He misses the feeling of cautious optimism in this bleak unfeeling world, of love for Six, of warm hands intertwined and whispers and hasty hugs.

As he crawls through the window into the house, he feels nothing.

Malnourished feet creep through the rooms, though he knows the hunter isn't here to hear him. Not yet. And then he goes down, he rips the axe from where it's jammed, he strikes down the wooden planks she hides behind-

Just like before, she cowers, hiding, curled up. Between her lips he catches a flash of white, and remembers seeing her teeth for the first time, sharp and cutting. Like a carnivore's.

Had she ever wanted to eat him?

He doesn't let go of the axe this time. He's cautious, waiting, unyeilding. He doesn't try to assure her, or reach out, he's trapped in a standstill. And then she chitters, and scampers, and he swings the axe at where her head had been a second prior. She screams, grey eyes bearing into his like a beam of light, and then she's metres away, lifetimes away, already up the stairs and gone.

He lets go of the axe, and crumples to his knees. This time, he doesn't go after her.

What's the point?

**Author's Note:**

> I love comments ♡
> 
> My twitter - https://mobile.twitter.com/FireFlyJars


End file.
